The offer
by Courtney Van Allen
Summary: A one-shot story from Sarah's point of view.  Sort of J/S, but then, sort of... not.


Everything that can happen, does.

The above is a popularly held theory among hack writers like me. This is because it allows us to fiddle with established plot and chronology and say, "Ah, well, constant reader, although it seems that I've taken a beloved character and totally mangled their history and behavior, it's not because of sloppy technique. _This_ story, you see, takes place in a _parallel universe_, where the familiar interacts with the novel in new and unexpected ways."

Oooh. Aaaah.

But just because it's popular doesn't mean it isn't right.

At least, that's what I think. For example, ten years ago now, someone (never mind who) made me a _very_ tempting offer. I mean, if I could capture that scene perfectly (believe me, it isn't for lack of trying) and get it down on paper… man, J.K. Rowling would hate me for knocking her off the bestseller lists. Stephen King would kiss my butt at swanky author-centric cocktail parties. HarperCollins would kick themselves for making me mutilate my first novel to a more reasonable length. And Peter Jackson would beg me to be allowed to buy the rights to my magisterial words.

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But I told you I was a hack writer, didn't I?

Anyway, that story's never going to be published, even if I do get the words out on paper. I'm always suspicious of autobiographical characters. But let me assure you, it was tempting. The worship of an insanely seductive man was only a small part of it. Don't forget the idea of leaving behind a dull, everyday life for adventure, excitement, and really wild things.

I said no. Actually, I said some other words, but I can't recall them at the moment and "No" is about the gist of it.

The price was too much, the risks too high. 

But I think that, in some other parallel universe, maybe, I said yes. 

Why? Because in my dreams, I see them.

There's the Sarah who's the blissful Queen of the… umm, I'll leave out proper names, I think. I've got the fiction author's privilege of being quirky, but naming the places might push me over the border of quirky into "insane" if anyone ever reads this. Plus, names have power, and I don't want to give that part of my life any more power than necessary.

Anyway, Sarah, blissful Queen of the whatsis. She's happy. She's his.

But there's also Sarah, spunky-but-sensitive as any of the heroines I wrote when I was writing X-men comics. Like me, she said no. But she's always harbored a "secret regret in her heart" (rather a Jane-Austenish trait for one so spunky, but never mind). Right now she's meeting him again after years and years, and after a decent passion-fraught interval, they'll realize that they truly love one another, and live happily ever after.

They don't know that'll be the outcome yet, of course. But I'm a hack writer. Melodramas have no secrets from me.

Let's see, who else? There's Sarah, the actress. I used to act back in high school, though I just fell out of it in college. Why live in Mom's shadow? But this Sarah didn't quit, and is now married to a _very_ familiar-looking British punk musician with safety pins in his ears and spiked hair. They have a daughter, Katherine. This Sarah doesn't get to marry the handsome prince, but I'm beginning to suspect that her kid might, disregarding the vague "ick" factor of that.

Sarah the medical student. Frazzled and competent, fairly content with having chosen a "meaningful" path in life.

Sarah the corporate drone. This one, I think, is also going to be rescued by the handsome prince. She's more fragile than spunky-but-sensitive Sarah, and the eventual happy ending will probably involve more sunsets and gentle kisses than unbridled lust, but whatever.

Sarah the vengeful… who actually did say yes, which answer caused her more misery than she could have imagined.

There's others, of course. About half of them said yes, the other half said no. Whether they ended up happy seems not to depend upon their answer at all. Like everyone else, they don't have absolute control over their lives. Some of them have died, from murder or suicide or brain tumors or plane crashes or childbirth. I don't care for those dreams… it's as though those other Sarahs really are me, and a part of me is taken with them when they go.

But all of them got an offer. And all of them made a decision.

I said no.

And if I wasn't sure I made the right choice at the time, I am now. My happiness is real, albeit not in the dramatic sense I use in my hack novels. I'm moderately successful. I have someone to love who loves me in return. I have good friends, a sweet family, a nice place to live and a life that's offered me way more kisses than kicks. I wake up every day happy to be living right here and right now, and if the offer were made again, I'd still say no. Hell, I'd say it louder and faster just to eliminate the possibility of confusion.

But I'm still glad that somewhere there's a brown-haired girl in a white dress, waltzing forever in the arms of a blonde-haired man in a blue jacket. A girl who is happy. And his.


End file.
